


Be of Some Use

by Marquise



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Dance with Dragons spoilers, Dark, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-02
Updated: 2011-08-02
Packaged: 2017-10-22 03:29:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/233247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marquise/pseuds/Marquise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one could say that Roose Bolton was a man who did not know how to use people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be of Some Use

**Author's Note:**

> Written to fill a prompt. This is a pairing that I've never seen before, and I don't know how I could write it without making it insanely dark. So, uh, enjoy! :D

It was Lord Bolton who dressed him in finery and made him a lord again, turned him back into the man he had been before he had learned his name. The restoration would not be permanent, Theon knew, for soon the Lord of the Dreadfort would have no use for him and turn him back over to his son’s whims. But for now it suited his plans for him to be a Greyjoy again, and the whispered order was followed to the letter.

It was strange, wearing the dead man’s skin again. They called him Theon and dressed him in black and gold, but when he caught a glimpse of his reflection in a broken pane of glass, he found himself looking at a corpse.

Dead or not, that man had some use, and no one could say that Roose Bolton was a man who did not know how to use people. The stronger the connection to the Starks he could make during this wedding, the more he tightened his grip on the North. Theon was not a Stark ( _they never allowed me to be, I never could be_ ) but he was the closest connection they could find to that ruined house. An easy thing to be used, a pitiful creature, and so use him Roose did, though Theon had died with the destruction of Winterfell ( _But what is dead can never die,_ said a whispered voice, unbidden and unwanted, somewhere deep inside him).

Roose had other uses for him as well as he learned in the days leading up to the ceremony, learned in closed-off rooms as the Leech Lord’s hand gripped the back of his head. Greyjoy or not, he still had to be of service to his betters. Ramsey had left him the shadow of a man but he had his mouth, and hands that were still somewhat useful, and that was enough for his Lord’s pleasure.

Just as no one could ever accuse Lord Bolton of being anything less than a careful man, no one would ever accuse him of exhibiting passion. That was the oddest part of it, at first, the part that gnawed at Theon and caused him to question things he shouldn’t. He would search the cold eyes for as long as he dared, before and after each act, and never find a hint of desire or lust or anything that would indicate why it pleased him to use him so.

Until one night, the day before the wedding. Lord Bolton had practically forced himself down Theon’s throat, causing him to gag. He ended up on all fours on the grimy flagstones--the edges of which were painfully sharp on his ruined fingers and boney knees--his silks and velvets ruined. As he coughed uncontrollably in the dark, he raised his eyes and found the corner of his Lord’s mouth turned upward in what could only be described as a smile.

 _He mocking you. That’s his pleasure._ It was not the agony of the flaying knife, but it was a kind of pain nonetheless. His relative kindness made sense now; it was all designed to make these moments where he was confronted with his place hurt all the more.

Not that he had much time to think about it. Roose yanked him up by the hair and pulled him forward, and he found himself pathetically gripping his shins to maintain his balance. He soon found that had to slip back into Reek in his mind in order to bring himself to continue his task, as it was a skin well-practiced in being used.

Roose called him Theon at the end, and he could swear that the name came on the tail-end of a laugh.


End file.
